


From Behind the Eyes of a Half-Blood Prince

by Ornyxfeather



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 00:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1724105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ornyxfeather/pseuds/Ornyxfeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow Snape's journey through the Harry Potter timeline. How he eventually finds some purpose in his life - so full of bitterness and solitude. See the evolution of his character on a quest for redemption. Will he ever find some measure of peace?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I do not own the Harry Potter characters.

* * *

****

** Chapter 1: The Prophecy **

It was a chilly night on 17th January 1980. The nearby surroundings of Hogsmeade were barely visible behind the thick, greying fog that filled the air. As the clouds of smoke slowly gave way, they revealed a small glimpse of the odd glistening candlelight, shining through behind the misty windows. Clearly the occupants of Hogsmeade were remaining in doors to escape the biting cold that had settled over the North of Britain - huddled around lit fires, filling their icy insides with the steamy warmth that only accompanied a glass or two of firewhiskey.

There was a sudden disturbance in the atmosphere as the air surrounding the trees rippled mildly. A tall, black figure was making its way down the silent street. His cloak gliding across the cobbled floor beneath his feet, swishing ever so lightly when caught in the breeze, as he approached an old rickety pub. The worn sign that hung directly above the wooden door, read: Hog's Head Inn.

As Severus Snape pushed open the door, its rusty, iron hinges squeaked. Soft murmurs could be heard as those gathered around small tables, heads close together, spoke in hushed voices. A group to the far end of the bar were laughing raucously, as the hilarity mounted a burly man rocked back on his chair which gave way under his weight. Uninterested and wanting to remain conspicuous, Snape slid into a chair at a table set behind a large pillar. It allowed for an open view of the entrance whilst at the same time concealing him nicely.

A few weeks ago, the Dark Lord had instructed him to keep a close eye on the movements of Albus Dumbledore, his former headmaster. There was rumour of a secret society, with a growing number of people, planning on leading a resistance. If these revolutionaries were to form an alliance with the Ministry, they would become an even greater threat to the Dark Lord's plans. In the last decade, the Dark Lord had managed to extend his power ever further: currently he had giants, dementors and even inferi at his command. It was evident that the Ministry was crumbling to the ground, barely afloat. He would not risk the position he currently held, the wizarding world was finally in a state of irreversible chaos. Soon the Dark Lord would have an army large enough to overthrow the Minister of Magic and seize control. There was no way he would allow this organisation to thwart the few chances he had created. They were an irksome inconvenience that needed to be disposed of. Snape had been charged with the responsibility of gaging as much information regarding their whereabouts or members as was possible.

Snape's magical cunning and insatiable ability to merge into the shadows fit him well for this purpose. A fortnight ago he had visited Hogsmeade for information from his source, only to overhear a conversation taking place outside Madame Rosmerta's.

_"People are so afraid, no one dares talk about anything anymore," Madame Rosmerta whispered to two teachers who had arrived at the village one evening. "Don't know who to trust…just living in terror of what the next day will bring."_

_The plump, dwarf-like man looked forlorn. "We mustn't lose hope though," he chirped sympathetically._

_"Filius is right, Rosmerta," the taller of the two was dressed in a thick travelling cloak. Professor McGonagall placed a comforting hand on the land lady's arm. The warm gesture seemed strangely odd to Snape, who had only known her as an austere and stern transfiguration teacher._

_Tears brimming in the whites of her eyes, Rosmerta went on, "I'm just so glad that at the very least the school and students are safe, and unharmed."_

_"Nothing will happen to the students, whilst Albus Dumbledore remains headmaster," Filius' small body was stretched tall, emanating the confidence he felt for their leader._

_"I suppose, they all say that You-Know-Who would never go against Dumbledore...he is the only hope we have in these dark days. I've seen him going by to the Hog's Head frequently…" informed Madam Rosmerta, there was a curious glint in her eyes as she looked directly towards Professor McGonagall, "Minerva-,"_

_"I'm afraid, there's not much I can tell you Rosmerta," the hint of gravity present in her tone was enough to deter Madame Rosmerta from questioning her again. "But I am sure that Albus has his reasons."_

_Snape did not linger, he was sure there would be no more discussion regarding Dumbledore's whereabouts. He disapparated immediately from his spot, in a small alley way that separated the pub from a nearby shop, keen to trace any other clues that might shed light on the old man's intentions._

Since then the dark-haired young Death Eater, who had been newly inducted into Voldemort's inner circle, had maintained secure contact with the school and in particular any news relating to the Headmaster. He knew it would be foolish - suicidal to even attempt to follow Dumbledore. Though his loyalties lied with the Dark Lord and his aims, Severus could not deny the Headmaster's prodigious skill. The informant he had selected was moderately reliable. After all the principle was a secret person; it was unquestionable that he would ever confide in the villagers. Only his staff would have any valuable information, all of whom were magically skilled. Impersonating them would not be easy, besides the castle was well protected against intruders. Snape's only way in was through an old lady, who the caretaker, Filch, held a strong attachment. Using the _Imperius_ curse Severus had successfully managed to compel her. Under his will, she met regularly with the caretaker. Surprisingly, behind that gnarly expression and grimy exterior, Severus was pleased to find a wealth of knowledge regarding news from within the castle. Though the idea had narked him tremendously in the beginning, he had found it unwittingly informative.

Earlier this evening his source had reported that the Headmaster was planning to leave the castle to enter Hogsmeade. From this, Severus had gathered that there was only one place he would be expected to be. And so he had decided to arrive at the Hog's Head Inn a good while before Dumbledore would be due to attend. Filtering out the noises around him, Snape's eyes rested intently on the front door, unblinking, waiting…

A shrill, animated voice from the opposite side of the bar threw his concentration, as he was momentarily diverted. His eyes shifted to the source of this intrusion, the sight both shocked and repulsed Severus. At the opposite end of the bar stood a gangly, thin woman, covered in a loosely hanging shawl. Jewels dangling around her neck, covering her arms and an assortment of large stoned rings on her fingers. What drew his attention the most were the large framed orbs that hung on her nose, magnifying her eyes to such a level, that they looked far too big for her face.

"I sense there is grave danger here tonight, beware for the black clouds of death loom close by," she told a middle-aged man sitting alone at his table. A look of fear contorted his features and terror swelled in his eyes, at hearing the news of his impending doom. He almost jumped out of his seat and headed frantically for the exit. The lady however, appeared quite pleased with the reaction she had evoked.

"You again," grunted an irritated barman, "Scarin' my customers away. Any more, an' I'll have you an' your crystal balls out o' here."

"Sir, I am the great granddaughter of the most renowned seer," was her pompous response in return, "The truth of the inner eye cannot be helped."

Though his dirty, silver hair obscured the barman's face, Severus was almost certain it held an expression of utter disgust. He himself was struggling to restrain the disparaging thoughts that seemed to flow through his mind at the impression of this woman.

"Now, if you would please - I only came for a butterbeer."

Snape was able to decipher a disgruntled, "Seer, my broomstick!" before returning his attention to the door. Similarly, he had very little patience for such histrionic individuals - _talentless, useless and pathetic!_

It was only moments after when the familiar screeching of the hinges caught his attention. His eye's fixed on that ancient face he recognised so well, as a tall man with half-moon spectacles in the most magnificent blue robes entered the pub. The image looked so out of place here, beyond the castle walls. His white beard, which reached his waist shone brighter than the dim candles and the buckles on his boots clinked quietly, as he made his way to the bar. A few heads turned towards him, Dumbledore smiled his usual kindly smile and bowed his head in acknowledgement of their greeting. It seemed obvious that his visit to the Hog's Head was not sought recreationally, for he dissuaded any invitation to polite company, seeking only the attention of the bartender.

Snape could not make out the words, but the two seemed to be sharing little more than casual conversation.

"Got another message for me to pass on 'ave yeh," grumped Abeforth.

"Always a pleasure," stated Dumbledore courteously, "May I enquire as to the reason for such a cold greeting…Of course, conversation is always a bit tense between us, no doubt. But I sense that it is more so than usual this evening," the professor pulled out a stool from underneath the bar and made to sit.

"I's nothin'," if there was anything that Abeforth despised more than his brother. It was his brother's annoying ability to see straight through his frustration.

"You know, I've been hearing such charming stories about a young woman, dare I say somewhat of a crystal gazer-" his blue eyes danced with amusement. The hint was deliberate, and it did little to calm Abeforth's irritation.

"She only arrived this mornin' and already she's managed to half empty this place," subconsciously Abeforth had started scrubbing the bar rather aggressively. "Seer, she calls herself. Not sure why'd you want a fraud teaching students myself…"

"Unfortunately she contacted me directly. Although I admit it is not my intention to allow divination to continue – I hear she is the great granddaughter of a most talented and gifted seer."

"Load of dragon dung-" mumbled Abeforth.

"Nevertheless, it would be unfair for me not to follow through with the necessary processes." The look on Abeforth's face plainly stated that the Professor was wasting his time. Aware that this discussion was pointless, Dumbledore directed the conversation towards a different avenue. "Minerva informed me about the McKinnons…"

"Hmm…" Abeforth paused in his cleaning and turned to face Albus, his expression sombre and softer than his usual gruff self. Even though he did not verbalise it, Dumbledore knew that his brother was as saddened by this tragic news.

Saving him the pain of having to say more, Dumbledore continued, "I assume Crouch is still adamantly refusing our proposal."

"Yeh, Moody say's the man's obsessed. Can't blame 'im suppose….no news of his son, he's still missin'."

"That seems to be the case…" staring past Abeforth, Dumbledore's eyes glazed over thoughtfully. Crouch's behaviour had certainly seemed odd to him, he had known him to be strict and sometimes rigid in his thinking, but recently he appeared fanatical. The legislation involving the capture of Death Eaters and refusing trial was politically extreme - something just didn't seem to fit. "Well…" snapping out of his reverie, Dumbledore made to stand, "I must not hold off the dreaded moment any longer, best to get it over with quickly and as painlessly as possible."

"She's through there," Aberforth gestured his head towards the back doorway leading up to the rooms.

As the headmaster disappeared around the bar, the barman turned in the opposite direction busying himself with polishing the goblets. Severus took his chance, making his way briskly in between the chairs to the other side of the bar, careful not to appear overtly suspicious.

Though unknown to him, the bartender had caught the movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head sideways, imperceptibly following Snape with his eyes. He had planned to go in behind him, when the pounding of a table caught his attention.

"Anoder round of firewhiskhey, I say!" exclaimed a burly Irishman. This was met by cheers from the rest of the table, reluctantly Abeforth sauntered forward.

Behind the door was a grey staircase that led to the upper floors. Severus' right foot was hovering over the first step, when he heard the soft plunking of boots on wood and the scratching sound of a chair being dragged across the floor. He changed direction immediately, silently casting the _Muffliato_ charm so the creeking of his footsteps would not alert the occupants to an intruder. A door to the left of the staircase stood slightly ajar. Crouching, he steadily approached the room, his face, nose-to-nose with the door as he peered through the small gap; conscious of his erratically beating heart and the heavy rising of his chest as he took irregular breaths.

From what he could gather, the space inside resembled a drawing room, he could just about make out the corner of a chintz armchair and the leg of a polished, oak coffee table. Beside the table, and positioned directly in front of his eye line, stood Professor Dumbledore, who urgently made his way towards the arm chair, blocking him from view. Severus was struggling to interpret the muffled voices from within and whispered, " _Callimorphus."_ As soon as he had cast the spell, his ears were met by a loud droning sound, both hypnotic and condemning.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches: born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and-"

Suddenly the hall flooded with light, a long dark shadow loomed over Severus, "Thought I didn't see you did you?"

For a second, Severus was rooted to the spot as if petrified, but as the barman raised his wand ready to curse, he reacted instinctively and dived to the left. BOOM! The stunning charm had hit the door and it was blasted off its hinges. Snape glanced the headmaster briefly, before scrambling to his feet, pushing the barman aside to clear his path to the exit. Severus sprinted out the pub, _"Stupefy,"_ cried the barman from behind. The spell hit a chair to his left, Snape tripped and rolled over. By this point the onlookers fell silent, watching intently as he clambered onto his feet and fled.

"YOU-" was the last he heard from the barman, as he continued running through the deserted streets, keeping his speed, until he had reached the safety of the trees, from where he disapparated.

 


	2. Voldemort's Downfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter characters.

"YOU BLEEDIN' -" Aberforth stopped himself and skidded to a halt a few feet from the Hog's Head entrance. There could be more Deatheaters hiding between the shops or in the alleyways, waiting surreptitiously before making their move. After a short while of standing rooted to the spot, tense and alert, Aberforth took one sweeping look around his surroundings, satisfied for the time being that the place was not being ambushed tonight at least. Slowly he made his way back into the pub. As he walked through the door he was greeted by a soft warm breeze which felt soothing against the cold rawness of his skin. In his blinding fury he had not registered the frosty chill outside.

In those few minutes the tone in the bar had changed drastically, even the Irish crowd in the far corner seemed to have sobered up. All eyes were wide and fixed on the entrance. Instead of the usual hubbub of chatter, a tense silence had settled over the crowd. Seemingly unaware of this fact, Aberforth simply traipsed forward, taking up his usual position behind the bar and recommenced his monotonous routine of scrubbing goblets. This seemed to act as a cue for the rest of those still gathered in the pub who turned towards each other. Soon after, a soft humming of conversation was restored, though the chatter was no longer free and light, but cautious and wary. The presence of a Deatheater within their midst had acted as a cruel reminder of the danger that now plagued the wizarding world, completely shattering the short modicum of joy that had existed previously. A few called it an early night, eager to get to the safety of their own homes. They wrapped themselves tightly in their thick woolen cloaks and sidled out of the pub.

Dumbledore appeared from the back door, calm and serene, as if nothing had happened. This was just as pleasant an evening as any other. However, at closer observation his brow seemed slightly more creased than usual and the dancing glint in his eyes had dulled a fraction. As always, he did not verbalise his worries nor did he attempt to communicate the tension that bubbled steadily beneath the surface. Instead he took a seat at the same stool that he had not long ago vacated.

"How's the cockroach lady?" enquired Aberforth, a little more gruffly than he had intended.

"She did well. I've decided that she's suitable to take on." Aberforth paused in his scrubbing, eyebrows knitted together in confusion at this odd response. For a second he considered whether his brother had disposed of his brain in a cauldron somewhere.

"I meant, how was she after the attack!" He gripped the dirty rug a little tightly in his fists. Sometimes, the old man really seemed to get on his last nerve. After all it didn't take much. Aberforth hardly reserved any patience when it came to his smart aleck of a brother.

"Oh, she remains blissfully ignorant." Albus was unaffected by the irritable note in the bar tender's voice and continued on with his explanation nonchalantly, "Miss Trelawney appears convinced that the young man was their trying to steal interview tips. Needless to say, she was appalled and infuriated. But aside from that, she seems perfectly fine."

Aberforth watched the headmaster suspiciously. He could not decide whether Albus was being deliberately sarcastic, or whether he was in fact telling the truth. Trelawney certainly was incredibly self-obsessed, so the latter wasn't completely unimaginable.

"What about our young visitor?" Aberforth knew that he was referring to the Deatheater.

"Got ahead of me. Disapparated, I suppose."

"Ah…" nodded Albus, thinking to himself. There was only one place he would go. _Tom_. Albus wasn't sure how much Voldemort's follower may have heard, but he knew it was paramount that Trelawney be moved to the castle as soon as possible. It would not surprise him if Voldemort decided to come after her. Yes, he should make arrangements without further delay.

"Best head off. I have a few arrangements to make for our latest staff addition."

Presently, the castle was the safest place for Sybil. It was the only place Voldemort had evaded. Albus was convinced that he had no intention of taking the school, it would be almost impossible for him to penetrate the school's defences. Of course, the rumour mill suggested that the real reason Hogwarts remained unharmed was because of Dumbledore. Apparently the twinkly-eyed headmaster was the only wizard that Voldemort feared. If these rumours were in fact true, then the inhabitants of Hogwarts were some of the best protected.

"Someone will be arriving shortly to collect her." Maybe he'd assign this task to his deputy; he knew how much she revered the art of divination. Albus allowed himself a small smile at this thought, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Why the hurry?"

"I felt it prudent, considering how terrible she is for business."

Aberforth knew the headmaster well enough to recognise when he was hiding something. Still he did not push the subject and merely shrugged. It was nothing to do with him. Albus was right, he'd be a lot more grateful once she had left. _Bloody nuisance when she's had firewhisky - clobbering about, destroying half the furniture._

In a surprisingly agile swish of his cloak Albus had disappeared; keen to deal with this matter as soon as possible. He would further ponder the meaning behind the words he had heard in the sanctuary of his own office. Right now, he needed to ensure that the required measures were taken to transport Sybil safely to Hogwarts. Once outside he disillusioned himself and set off briskly in the direction of the castle. As he walked, he deliberated on Tom's possible reaction to the news. Would Tom act on these words? Surely he was far too intelligent to hold much store by a prophecy. Tom's vanity has always been his greatest weakness. But then again, whomever this prophecy referred to posed a threat. Would he risk his empire? Most definitely not, Dumbledore's heart told him.

-xxxxxxxx-

The crack as Severus materialised in a deserted valley was hardly discernable under the thunderous growling of the wind. Rain was falling relentlessly like never ending waterfalls from the pitch black sky, creating a set of mud puddles in the ground that splattered his robes with flecks of moist dirt with every step. Severus' cloak was immediately soaked, it clung uncomfortably to his body. His hair sticking to the sides of his face as the rain pelted against his skin unforgivingly. This didn't however deter Severus from the mission at hand, as he continued to hasten towards his destination. His breath came in heavy gasps as he fought through the harsh winds and thick downpour. Still, one thought stood fixed in his mind, that he must inform the Dark Lord.

For years now, Severus had respected and empathised with the Dark Lord's aims. It all started in his school years at Hogwarts. Severus had been extraordinarily intellectual and a lot more engrossed in the deeper workings of magic and its theoretical basis, as opposed to the actual wand work. Maybe this aspect was one of the reasons why he held such a strong affinity for potions. Very early on in his schooling, particularly after he had befriended Lucius, Severus developed a fervent interest in the Dark Arts. The subject fascinated him. Just the complexity of this brand of magic was enough to enthrall him. The Dark Arts were not restricted or bound by the common laws of magic. Its potential was limitless, even though this aspect was in fact what scared most wizards, for Severus it increased the allure. The temptation to explore it further had always been so tantalising for him. Plus, in some juvenile way it appealed greatly to a subconscious malevolent urge that lied within a corner of his heart – the part that sought retribution for the cruelties he had suffered.

Severus' knowledge made him incredibly popular amongst his Slytherin housemates, many of whom shared a similar likeness for the Dark Arts, although their reasons were far more sinister. Nevertheless, with a few of them he was able to establish some form of kinship. At Hogwarts Severus felt accepted for who he was, not eternally judged or viewed as an inferior being. Finally, he had found his equals and a sense of belonging that he had rarely ever come across. Somehow through this shared passion, a select group of them had found their way to the Dark Lord, whose ideals they imbibed readily. Voldemort's views only fed their existing prejudices, fueling the resentment they felt towards Muggles. Under his command they would lead a revolution, one that would eventually place wizards at the forefront of society. Instead of hiding and being forced to lead an invisible existence, wizards would be able to live in the open without fear. There would be no need for the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Once again they'd be able to reclaim what the muggle world had deprived them of for so long. For Severus personally knew what it was like to be cast aside.

As a child, Severus had been loathed by his drunk, muggle father, who spared no affection for him or his mother. The ill-treatment he endured in his childhood greatly influenced his opinions in later life. Severus' mother was too sickly to work, reduced to taking various concoctions of potions that allowed her some reprieve from the constant fatigue and pain. His father spent a majority of his time idle and sullen, unable to gain any joy from life. For the most part he whiled away his miserable existence by drinking his way to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. The remainder of his time was spent either shouting or belittling his wife. It wasn't difficult for Severus to recall those dreaded times, where he would hide away silently in his bedroom trying to escape from the loud voices that echoed through the walls. But no matter how hard he tried they would never disappear.

Joining Voldemort had made him feel special in some respects. For the first time his talents had been recognised and valued. Granted some of Voldemort's methods sent a slight twinge of unease through him, though this was only miniscule. The adoration he felt towards his leader was enough to extinguish his doubts. Serving the Dark Lord was the only thing that gave his life meaning, it gave him a purpose. Aside from this, what did he have? A fleeting image of a red haired female passed through his mind. She hadn't been a part of his life for a long time now. Snape refused to allow himself to dwell on this. He pushed his thoughts back to the important task he had yet to complete.

As he continued his brisk walk down a concrete road, his surroundings seemed to become considerably darker. He had reached a thick patch of trees that towered over him on either side and shrouded him in darkness. The only sound to reach his ears was the thunderous roaring of the heavens as the skies continued to unleash their terror. Every so often the white lightening that protruded from the sky would momentarily illuminate his black silhouette and a small section of the path ahead. The headquarters were situated in a mansion in the South of Wales, where the only sights visible within a 20 mile radius were green fields and trees. Severus remained alert, his hand inches from his wand ready to defend himself if needed. A few minutes later the trees began to thin and the road lead him straight to a Georgian mansion. As always, guarding the small metal gate stood two Deatheaters on patrol duty. Although protective spells had been cast, these precautionary procedures had been deemed significant, particularly in light of the recent changes in Ministry policy. There was no knowing when a band of Aurors might arrive on their doorstep. Several Deatheaters had already been captured or killed.

The road bordered a stone fountain which was now overflowing from the extra water. It stood in the middle of an immaculately styled lawn, whose perimeters were marked by low brick walls. As soon as his body made contact with the iron, it appeared to melt away, permitting him entry. The front doors led onto an open marble floor. Immediately upon crossing the threshold, Severus' eardrums were assaulted by the deafening painful screams of agony, which seemed to pierce straight through him causing his insides to stiffen. Then he noticed, cackling hysterically over the limp body of some desperate follower, stood the impressive form of Bellatrix Lestrange. In the yellowish glow of the candelabra, her frizzy hair untamed and wild, gave her the appearance of a deranged animal. She bore down upon her victim, her mouth pressed together tightly and eyes narrowed with malice, relishing the pain that she had inflicted. The cowering and pleading form of the individual on the floor seemed to satisfy her immensely.

"Unfortunately the Dark Lord has instructed that you survive. It's a shame….you are unworthy to live after what you have done. You filthy piece of vermin!" Bellatrix spat in his direction and looked upon him with such disgust, that Severus felt she would crush him under the sole of her leather boots, like if he were a slug.

"Crucio!" Of course the slow torture would be far more gratifying to her. Severus watched the scene impassively. Every so often someone was subjected to this form of punishment and Bellatrix was only too happy to oblige. He did not recognise the pale faced individual on the floor, but he could hazard a good guess as to the possible reason for such brutal treatment. Whoever this person was, they had probably failed in a mission or else betrayed secrets to their enemies. "This will teach you never to defy your Master!"

"Bella," came Lucius' low impatient voice from across the hall. He was stood in a doorway that led onto a dining room, which was now being used to hold regular strategy meetings. "How many times must I remind you _not_ to torture inside the house." Though he appeared relatively calm, Lucius' face twisted into a grimace. Severus knew that above all, Lucius prized his heritage and wealth. Everything he owned was polished, shiny, flawless and of the highest standard. "I have already had to replace the floor twice," as he said this, Severus noticed his eyes lower to the floor as he examined the dark scorch marks critically.

"Oooh, your precious floor…." Taunted Bellatrix in her mock baby voice, slowly she drew away from the body beneath her feet and stepped over the limp form. Sensing the child-like argument that was inevitably bound to ensue, Severus drew in a slow breath and braised himself for the tiresome display. It seemed neither of them had spotted him in the shadow of the entrance.

"How very _inconsiderate_ of me," she pouted so as to demonstrate her deep sorrow. The expression seemed to evoke a nauseous feeling in the pit of Severus' stomach. Then her mouth slowly curved upwards in a sadistic smile and without further warning, in one quick and florid movement she whipped around blasting the huge Greek vase in the corner of the hall. The broken pieces of clay, clinked as they fell to the ground. This act didn't at all surprise Severus. Bellatrix took orders from the Dark Lord, not anyone else, not even Rodolphus.

"You-" Lucius's hand had just reached his wand when his wife, Narcissa stepped into the hall.

"Bella, what is this? You can't keep destroying our property," she sounded half exasperated. Clearly, he was not the only one who was bored by her childish antics.

"Well Cissy, maybe if your husband wasn't such a haughty hippogriff. I wouldn't be so sorely tempted." She said this whilst staring directly at Lucius as if she were deliberately attempting to provoke a reaction out of him. Lucius had raised himself to his fullest height. It was obvious that he was readying himself to bite back, when Narcissa interrupted him by moving forward, a concerned expression on her face. Her eyes had fallen on Severus, who was standing silently in the entrance still wet from the rain.

"Severus?"

He stepped forward into the candle light, so that he was fully visible.

"Why Severus, how long have you been here?" enquired Lucius, whose attention was now focused entirely on their guest. He seemed to have forgotten his irritation with Bellatrix as he turned to Severus, smiling pleasantly.

"Long enough," stated Severus simply.

"Eavesdropping were we?" As usual Bellatrix could not resist the urge to be obnoxious. Severus detested her almost to the same degree as Lucius.

"Hardly…it would only have been eavesdropping had the two of you been discussing anything of note." Unlike Lucius, Severus was able to control his outward expression of anger. Besides, he was here for one purpose alone, one that excluded Bellatrix.

"Severus, what brings you here at this time of night?" In stark contrast to her sister, Narcissa's tone was warm rather than interrogating. She gestured for him to move into the hall, as soon as he did so he seemed to be engulfed by a haze of heat. It warmed his insides and dried him off instantly. He presumed that they had placed a temporary heat warming charm on the entrance due to the bad weather.

"I have news for the Dark Lord."

"Hmph…and what news might that be?" interjected Bellatrix, who disliked the idea that Severus might have information that she was not party to.

"That, I cannot say. This information is only to be divulged to my Master." Voldemort had not informed any of his Deatheaters about the task that he had ordered Severus to undertake. It was to be kept strictly private. Bellatrix may be intimidating in her own right, but her status within the Deatheater ranks did not scare him. If anything he found her constant interference all the more annoying. So, he decided to take this opportunity to goad her gently, "If he finds you to be worthy, he may choose to share it with you of course. But for now, I seek only the Dark Lord's company."

Bellatrix may have threatened to decapitate him there and then, had Lucius not stepped forward.

"The Dark Lord is in his usual quarters. Come Severus, I will walk you through." Lucius placed an arm round his shoulder and guided him towards the mahogany staircase.

"You're sister-in-law seems as charming as ever." They climbed in synchrony, once they had reached the top landing Lucius veered to his right. Severus scanned the portraits on the wall as they walked steadily across the open corridor.

"Insufferable." Just the mention of Bellatrix was enough to rile Lucius, his features twisted in contempt, "Weren't it for Narcissa and the fact that she is in the Dark Lord's favour, I'd have cursed her into an oblivion years ago."

Well, at least Severus was not doomed to live with her.

Distracting Lucius from his thoughts Severus asked about their progress with regards to the Ministry of Magic, "Any news from the ministry?"

"Rowle has been particularly useful. We now have at least over a dozen spies placed within the heart of the Ministry. I am sure it will not be long before it is completely under the Dark Lord's control."

The next step of their plan relied heavily on them successfully infiltrating the Ministry. If they achieved this they would have complete autonomy. Voldemort needed the Ministry on side in order to follow through with his plans. It would be their most important tool in this revolution.

"Unfortunately, this new head of Magical Law Enforcement, I cannot place the name…."

"Crouch, I believe."

"Yes, his new capture or kill policy and the imprisoning of known followers without trial, has made it very troublesome indeed. He has all the Aurors on high alert. Even Ministry employees are being watched carefully. We have had to be fairly cautious. After all we cannot risk exposure."

Severus nodded stiffly. Since the instatement of Crouch as head, the Ministry had been causing a lot of problems for them. Aurors have been given clearance to use unforgivable curses to aid their capture of Deatheaters, if need be. Ministry officials are pooling all their resources to fight Voldemort's followers. Severus had heard on his many wanderings around Hogsmeade that Crouch was extremely obsessional, he certainly sounded like he was the primary driving force behind this policy. Their strategies seemed to be proving effective. Last week he was informed that a group of three Deatheaters, who were lower in the ranks, had been captured. Voldemort had magical creatures at his command, but they could not take any steps, until the Ministry was within their grasp.

"Here we are," said Lucius. He had brought Severus to one of the rooms at the far end of the corridor. The door was dark brown with a gold plated handle, in which an elaborate pattern had been carved. Lucius bowed and left Severus standing alone in front of the door. After a brief moment Severus knocked lightly. He rubbed his fingers against his palms, they felt clammy. The lock on the door clicked.

"You may enter, Severus." Lord Voldemort's voice floated through the slight gap in the door. It was a dark room, the only light came from the flames that crackled in a finely decorated white fireplace. The Dark Lord was seated in an arm chair, part of his waxy features reflected yellowy-orange in the firelight, whilst the other half was cast in shadow. Severus was very aware of the dryness in his mouth as he opened it to respond, but all he could muster was a feeble cough. He kept his position inside the room a few feet from the Dark Lord with his hands folded behind his back.

"You have some information for me." It was not a question, rather a statement that demanded affirmation.

"Ye-yes m-my Lord," Severus lowered his head involuntarily, afraid to meet those ferocious red eyes.

"Well…" The Dark Lord waited patiently for Severus to respond, but the undertone of authority was evident. Severus tried to control the frenzied battering of his heart against his chest before recounting the events from earlier today.

"My L-lord, I am sure you remember the task you had set me. I-I visited the Hog's Head this evening…I had previously been informed that Dumbledore frequents the pub often." Here Severus paused to swallow in an attempt to steady himself. Being alone in the presence of the Dark Lord was a daunting experience. The overwhelming power that radiated from him made Severus coil inwards.

"Whilst I was there, I he-heard…I heard him from a room," The implications of the words he was about to communicate sent a tremble through his spine. There was no way of predicting how this news would be received by the Dark Lord. Would he be punished for suggesting that there could be another who could rival his leader?

"Do not be shy Severus. Tell me what you have overheard."

"I cannot be completely sure my Lord. But whoever was inside the room-it sounded like a prophecy-"

"A prophecy…" This time Voldemort fingered his wand absentmindedly and his eyes narrowed dangerously. With the Ministry hindering their progress in the war recent events had not been in their favour. Severus did not particularly fancy being the bearer of more bad news, however hiding this information from the Dark Lord would only add to his difficulties.

"What sort of prophecy was this?"

"It referred to a child…an individual. My Lord, it spoke of one who is said to be your downfall…"

"My downfall, is it?" – Voldemort's eyes pierced Severus with such intensity that he could feel the invasion of his mind. The sensation was similar to that of falling through a black hole. For the second time tonight Severus stood at a door in the Hog's Head. He heard the words reverberate in his ears like a huge gong, making him dizzy. With a short gasp of air, his mind was back in the present, in a dark room, kneeling in front of Lord Voldemort.

"Interesting. You have done well to get this information to me Severus. I am most pleased with your efforts."

A wave of relief washed over Severus. Slowly he raised himself off the ground, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow.

"Once I have understood what these words mean, I will be sure to inform my Deatheaters. But till then, this information must not be divulged to anyone."

"Of course, my Lord."

"You are free to leave, Severus."

Something large and slimy slithered against his robes as he turned towards the exit, followed by a low guttural hissing. " _Nagini_ …" was the only word Severus could make out as he closed the door behind him.


End file.
